Eurue- The Forgotten World

by Elaina J Davidson

  Inhaling, Alusin looked up. He bowed, hand over heart. “That is the best reason. Thank you.”

  Straightening, he snapped the box closed, snatched it up and tucked it under his arm. Giving Tristan an unfathomable look, he left the cellars.

  Tristan deflated, leaning on his hands on the table. “Gods.”

  “What is it?” Jala whispered. “Suddenly the two of you scare me more than what is outside.”

  He looked at from under lowered lashes. “Have no fear, I promise. We’re just pushing each other’s boundaries.”

  “Why here?” she blurted. “We don’t need to deal with this too.”

  Tristan straightened. “Here, for the first time in a century, we are without the Kaval surrounding us. It gives us … leeway.”

  “A century? How old are you?”

  Grunting under his breath, he muttered, “A youth compared to him.” Shaking his head, he left her there.

  Chapter 8

  The father tucks the son into bed

  The son says there is a monster under his bed

  Amused, the father ducks to look underneath, and sees him

  Another him, under the bed, quivering

  That son tells him there is a monster on his bed

  ~ Ixion, on Nightmares ~

  The Dome

  THE CENTUAR STARED at the console of lights, urging the ether, any bloody wind current, to answer his communication. To all intents, Tristan and Alusin had vanished from the universe.

  This did not sit well.

  Seeing as Lax had all the aid it needed in the present, he sent an encompassing Dome summons out. The call was felt by every Kaval member wherever he or she was, and the call could not be denied.

  Belun knew they would be arriving soon, and stepped away from the console to meet them.

  Jimini, the shapeshifter, was first. A pretty woman, she was human in appearance, with auburn hair, curvy, but her skin was far colder than average. Apparently her colder biology allowed for easy transition into various shapes, including the fantastical, although she could hold the latter forms only for a short period.

  Dressed in combat gear, or what the Kaval referred to as combat gear but was no more than breeches, tunic, boots and cloak of a darker hue, she waved greeting and sat at the marble slab that was their conference table and, as she did so, a chair rose to meet her. She said no more, knowing Belun waited for the full complement.

  Fuma and Amunti came next, entering separately through their ogives, only to meet up and walk in together. Generally they worked as a team, the perfect foil for each other. Fuma, a tall thin Deorc, his skin dark, was a mind-delver with a respectful and quiet demeanour, while Amunti, originally from the Drinic Homeworld, the world of portal experts, was much shorter and much louder. Amunti did not know when to shut up. Fuma often cuffed him. Amunti was similarly clad as to Jimini, but as ever Fuma preferred his scanty covering, which was no more than a wrap around his waist. He did, however, wear boots.

  Both smiled, and took seats. They did not bother greeting Jimini; the Kaval had been working as a team when the summons came.

  Assint and Mahler strode in, the two Centuar as large as Belun, although not as flamboyant. They were in their humanoid guises. The Centuar preferred their guise for general interaction, but in battles they were pure form and aggression.

  On their heels came Jonas, resident technology wizard, and Chaim, an old Jew with the weight of ages upon him as he attempted to figure out his place in the universe according to the laws of his God.

  Prima entered, a tall, spare man, and sat at the table. Since the day Torrullin charged him with uncovering a certain prophecy, he had made it his life’s mission to familiarise himself with the arcane art of seers and their words. He and Alusin often bent heads together in quieter times.

  Shenendo entered the Gatherers’ Circle with gusto, his slanted eyes crinkled by the width of his smile. Barely a second later, Galarth hastened in to catch up, his unremarkable form hiding a keen intellect. Galarth was a genius. Shedo and Gal frequently worked as a unit.

  As the final ogive chimed, Belun steeled himself. In the beginning, when the Kaval was formed, there were three women on the team, and then later Jimini alone held the torch aloft for the sisterhood. When Quilla of the Q’lin’la went into the mists with Torrullin, one seat at the table became vacant, and the woman entering now eventually filled it five years after that parting.

  Belun liked everybody everywhere … except this woman.

  Kila, red tresses flowing, strode in on her long legs. A beautiful woman, with eyes nearly the tawny hue of the Valleur, she was also a powerful talisman creator. In other words, magical devices were her forte. She waved as she took a seat.

  Inwardly Belun groaned. Kila got on well with everybody, except him. He had not yet uncovered why they did not like each other, although Assint suggested it might be because he actually more than ‘liked’ her. Belun nearly ripped his brother’s head off that day. Absolutely not; it was not even a glimmer of a thought in his mind.

  He stepped up. “Let’s get to it.”

  “Wait, where’s Tristan and Alusin?” Jimini asked.

  “They are the reason I sent the summons,” Belun replied grimly. “Listen up.”

  Concisely he told them of the messenger that approached Jonas on Lax, and Alusin’s subsequent brief stop in the Dome, and what it was he sought to find out.

  “He said he’d send co-ordinates, and yet now there is dead air between us. Something went wrong. Lax is able to cope for a few weeks without our presence, so I suggest we find out what exactly is amiss.”

  “You haven’t told us what the message said,” Prima frowned. “Except that it was a request for a meeting on Petunya.”

  Jonas grimaced and glared at the table.

  “What?” Jimini demanded. “What’s got Jonas’ ears in a twist?”

  Moving to stand behind the console, Belun leaned heavily on his massive arms. “Tristan requested his silence on the matter, but we’re now beyond that. Jonas?”

  The spare man, almost bald, stood. “The messenger said that there is rumour of a replica Medaillon.”

  “So? Many claim that,” Assint murmured.

  “Rivalen’s copy.”

  Prima, Chaim and Fuma hurtled up, demanding clarification. Everyone at the slab paled.

  Belun roared, “SIT!”

  They sat.

  “Do we know if the claim is true?” Galarth asked, his tone thoughtful. “I don’t see it, honestly. Torrullin said Rivalen is eternally bound and we must trust that.”

  “I agree,” Belun responded in a more reasonable tone. “And yet it sets those bells to ringing, so off Tristan went. He attempted to go in alone, but Alusin entered here at just the right moment to deny him that.”

  “Thank Aaru,” Jimini said.

  Belun flashed a grin, agreeing with the sentiment. “Then Alusin comes asking about this Gabryl and I did the research. An unsavoury character with a terrible reputation. Guess what? He disappeared around ten years ago and married a local woman on Petunya, and recently inherited her estate.”

  “Gold digger?” Kila muttered.

  “Much worse.” Belun did not look at her, causing Assint and Mahler to grin at each other. “He has a tendency to pop up in the strangest places, and always leaves mayhem in his wake.”

  “What kind of mayhem?” Prima asked.

  “The criminal kind. Nothing says sorcery, yet it had to be in play.”

  “Bugger,” Amunti sighed.

  “Exactly. Gabryl has cooked up a scheme that involves our Kaval leader, and used the horror that was Rivalen to ensure Tristan’s arrival on Petunya, and now we have a blackout. I know they have tried to reach us, and I also know they are aware we won’t stand still. I aim not to disappoint them.”

  Chaim, nodding, lifted a finger. “What of the eight-legged creatures Alusin mentioned? That must be the threat they are dealing with. We need to know how to help them do so.”

&nb
sp; “Agreed, but here we have a problem. There are a few creatures meeting the eight-legged criteria, although only a limited number also have the mist connotation. Still too many to simply make a decision.”

  “And if you add quicksilver to the mix?” Fuma said.

  “No match. Apparently I had to look at the Siric records, which means these creatures are ancient, but I found nothing.”

  “What’s on the list?” Galarth asked, leaning forward to listen intently.

  Yes, one could ever trust Galarth to step forward. No doubt his mind already sought out connections.

  “The Vulpi,” Belun responded.

  “Too recent,” Galarth stated. “After the Murs Siric went into exile.”

  Belun smiled. This was why he loved the Kaval. This was why he had summoned them. Together they came up with answers.

  “Glare’s spiders?”

  “Only seen in realm travel,” Galarth rebutted, “so doubtful.”

  “Daetal.”

  “A myth,” Prima murmured, but Galarth was again thoughtful.

  Everyone looked at him. He stared at the marble slab, sifting through his store of information. Galarth remembered everything he read or heard. When he lifted his hand, everyone inhaled in expectation, including Belun.

  “Higunalsier,” he said, his gaze unfocused. “The more accepted name for the …” Galarth straightened. Everyone straightened with him. “… Kemir world.”

  Belun blinked, and a shiver of foreboding passed through his huge form.

  Galarth rose to press his hands flat on the slab. “Alusin calls his world Eurue, but that was before, well, before almost everything, except the Valleur and the Danaan. We know the world as Higunalsier, a deserted world, long, long abandoned. Why was it abandoned? Because eight-legged monsters started eating them, consuming them. A myth today, and yet it is recorded as a first-hand telling in the Era of Settling Suns. The monsters are named as daetal, large twisting ghostly spheres with eight tentacles.”

  “Bloody hell,” Jimini whispered.

  Belun wholeheartedly agreed with that sentiment also. “Thus it wasn’t just Tristan this Gabryl wanted, but Alusin as well.”

  “Yes,” Galarth agreed, “because the Kemir of old created a weapon to kill the daetal, and quicksilver was the prime ingredient.”

  “Oh, crap. A potential weapons maker needed to be curtailed,” Belun understood.

  “Did it work? The weapon?” Fuma asked.

  “It worked, but quicksilver was in short supply. Thus Eurue was abandoned.”

  “Mercury is in short supply now,” Jonas said.

  “How does it work?” Fuma asked next.

  “No clue, but I have read that patches on Higunalsier have every appearance of antimatter implosions.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Shenendo put in. “Mercury isn’t radioactive at all.”

  Galarth shrugged. Weapons were not his strength; knowledge was.

  Belun was then decisive. “We work in teams of two at all times, understood? Gal and Shedo …”

  “The Higgy place?” Shenendo grinned.

  Laughing, Belun nodded. “Look for clues to both weapon and creature. Fuma and Amunti, find us some quicksilver.” Both men nodded without speaking. “Chaim and Jimini, we need more details about what Gabryl is capable of.”

  Chaim smiled, but Jimini groaned. “Really? Lovely,” she muttered.

  “Jonas and I will continue searching the on-board records here,” Belun went on. “Centuar, you’re going to Petunya’s northern coast, working your way down, and Prima and Kila, you will start in the south, heading up. We need to know what happened and if you find them, shout for us.”

  “Petunya has three continents,” Prima pointed out.

  “I tracked Alusin to Frond before his signature vanished.”

  “Doable,” Kila murmured.

  “No heroics. If you see a daetal, you bloody transport out, hear?” Belun eyed all four of them.

  “We hear,” Mahler grinned.

  Belun smacked the console. “Get to it and keep in touch.”

  Swiftly, the teams exited, until only Jonas remained with him in the Dome.”

  “Jonas, start with the Siric records …”

  Somewhere

  HE ALLOWED HER to bathe this morning. She had suggested the trade of her body, but he refused, to her relief. He watched her every move, however, while she washed and scrubbed the filth of years away.

  Perhaps he waited for her to fill out a little more before staking his claim.

  She shuddered at the thought, and then nearly crowed her delight on hearing ‘Higunalsier’ float upon the ether. Almost, she could taste freedom.

  Chapter 9

  Lucid dreams can come at any time, although they do require a lengthy period of stillness

  ~ Lucan Dalrish ~

  Petunya

  Frond

  The Chateau

  TRISTAN DID NOT make it to breakfast. Exhaustion caught up with him and he ended up in the dead kind of sleep where worlds imploded around him without stirring even a finger into awareness.

  It drove Alusin mad. He was well aware of the kind of utter oblivion Tristan could sink into.

  To distract himself, he joined Dash in the cellars, the two of them pawing through the old books and documents for the unheralded kind of clues.

  As there was no lunch on offer - they had decided to eat basic in the mornings and a more substantial meal in the evenings - there was little to break the monotony. Around midday, Alusin excused himself and went up to wake Tristan. Enough was enough; they needed to talk.

  He discovered the man in the grip of a full-blown nightmare.

  Tristan thrashed and moaned. He kicked viciously at something unseen and twisted his head as if seeking to avoid being touched. Alusin knew the signs. A nightmare, yes, but also potentially a vision. Tristan, after all, before they met, had visions of the two of them. He was no stranger to visitations, although it happened infrequently for him.

  The surest sign was body temperature. If he was feverish, it was a vision. Reaching out tentatively - disturbing the seer in vision was dangerous for the seer - Alusin lightly touched Tristan’s forehead with one finger, and withdrew immediately.

  Hot.

  Fuck.

  He slumped in the armchair in the corner - at least this one was all about comfort - and waited, watching for a return to normality.

  Waking a seer was even more dangerous.

  Only moments later Tristan began to hyperventilate, shallow gasps at first, and then the gulping kind of breathing that usually signified a state of dream drowning.

  Tristan sat bolt upright, his eyes open wide.

  The fine hairs on Alusin’s arms spiked to attention.

  Fair hair swung as Tristan turned his head in a decisive movement and speared the corner with grey eyes completely silvered.

  Alusin held his breath.

  Flopping back, Tristan groaned into an awakening state, covering his face, shaking in the aftermath.

  By all gods, what did he see?

  Alusin cleared his throat.

  “I know you’re there,” came a muffled mutter.

  “Can you tell me?”

  Hands still shivering lowered. “How do I trust you now?”

  A knife twisted in his thundering heart. “I am no different, but it occurs to me you were right about my dark spaces.”

  Sighing, Tristan rolled onto his side and propped his head with one hand. “Unmake, Alusin?”

  “It isn’t something I have ever broadcast, and your reaction will reveal to you why that is, and know I have rarely employed it.”

  “It is a darak talent.”

  Alusin shrugged. “Some say the reason the Kemir reached extinction is because they were darak fallen.”

  “Were they?”

  Closing his eyes, he said, “I don’t know how to answer. The Kemir themselves believed it, and yet I grew up in a community filled with laughter and joy. Perhaps we we
re capable of it only when pushed to the extreme, but otherwise lived in the light.”

  “That describes a dual nature.”

  “Maybe.”

  Sitting up, Tristan swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and then could move no more. He stared at Alusin, his eyes back to their usual grey. “I saw a silver sphere, small, hand-size, and it twisted in ropes of continuous movement. Solid, always a whole orb, but busy. It smelled of ozone and it was heavy, akin to the weight of gold in that size.”

  “You were thrashing.”

  “They wanted the sphere and I needed to keep it from them. I fought them off with one hand and my feet.”

  “Who?”

  Inhaling, Tristan said. “Faceless. Ghosts. Not the tentacled kind; actual ghosts.” He barked a laugh. “My feet passed through them. Hard to fight ghosts.”

  Leaning forward, Alusin said, “I think we need to face one of the monsters outside.”

  “Why?”

  “The fact that you ask so calmly means you already agree with me.”

  Tristan lifted a shoulder. “We witnessed one event and the rest is hearsay. We need to see if we have anything in our arsenals to beat them.”

  “Agreed.”

  “You’re thinking this is why I had the dream.”

  “No. It prodded me, yes, but your dream is something else.”

  “Oh, do tell, my fine immortal seer.”

  “The weapon, Tris. I do believe you saw the weapon.”

  The skin on the golden man’s face stretched tight. “Then we need more insight. Will you look?”

  “You are trusting me now?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Fine, I will look tonight with your help.”

  “And tomorrow we forge into the unknown outside?” Tristan’s eyes glittered.

  Apparently his grandfather’s orbs could do so as well - glitter - and Torrullin was known for the silvering also. Tristan was right; he was just like him.

  Panting unobtrusively, Alusin nodded.

  A PALPABLE RELEASE of tension overcame the gathered as soon as night arrived, and Tristan and Alusin were not immune to it either. Suddenly shoulders loosened and smiles appeared.